The Underground Railroad Brides Collection: 9 Couples Navigate the Road to Freedom Before the Civil War
Page 36
It was like lancing a festering wound. As fugitives talked, it was as if the poison of their lives flowed out. Most had never had anyone to talk to about the hardships they’d lived through, and Winnie’s listening ear and her pen provided them comfort. Their spirits were lifted, but Winnie had cried many tears over those stories. Her heart ached at the pain they’d suffered and, in the same heartbeat, rejoiced at how easy her life was working at Madison House. Her talks with Hiram had been hard to process. His gunshot was another sad chapter in his story.
Her trip from the boardinghouse to where Hiram stayed carried her down a sloping hill, green and soft underfoot. She had traveled this route many days to work in the main house on Madison Plantation. She still remembered the day she and her parents moved to East Towson. They had lived in cramped lodging behind the stables of Madison House, all three of them sharing one room. Her father had asked for permission to move to East Towson, and Mr. Madison had agreed to the arrangement, under a few stipulations.
The move could not impact their work. Also, her family would no longer receive victuals like the rest of the slaves on the plantation. Her father had agreed and stressed every day that Winnie had to do everything exactly right or they would lose their newfound freedom. It wasn’t true freedom, but it was the family’s first step toward it. It was their road to freedom. A road her parents didn’t know they were on.
Winnie looked up at the sky. One day they would walk away free. No ducking in the woods and relying on the help of strangers. Soon. For now, she would do her duties with excellence and efficacy. And keep her work at the church a secret. She hid all her journals in her room and helped Pastor Matthew keep all the fugitives hidden from the eyes of the plantation owners. Hiram’s extended stay increased the risk of them getting caught, and they would all have to stay alert.
The women of East Towson finished hanging the last of their laundry as children played around them. Nearby, several men were finishing relocating wood. She enjoyed this time, after a day’s labor but before the sun had fully set. Life looked normal now. No one under the heat of the sun or the heat of the whip. Now they were just people with children playing underfoot and wives cooking at kettles. Men repairing shoes or windows.
Hiram stood by the boardinghouse door talking with Pastor Matthew. She watched him for a few seconds. He listed to one side, avoiding putting his full weight on his injured leg. Even so, he stood taller than Pastor Matthew. His tattered clothing had been replaced with donated items from some of the larger men on the plantation. The shirts and pants were ill-fitting but better than what he had before.
The clothes did not hide his broad shoulders and thick legs. What a sight he must have been, lifting and hauling.
Winnie pushed forward, moving her mind away from her current train of thought. Hiram was handsome, especially when he smiled. But he would be moving north as soon as his leg fully healed. That was clear by his constant questions about how they were going to help him with the rest of his journey. She should care for him as much as she did the other fugitives and no more.
He turned, spotted her, and smiled. “Good evening, Miss Winnie.”
“Evening, Hiram. Please call me Winnie.”
He looked down at his feet. “Winnie.”
At the way he spoke her name, she almost wished she hadn’t permitted him to do so. Her knees weakened at the rumbly, wispy way he pronounced it.
They said their good-byes to Pastor Matthew and started walking toward the barn. She steadied herself to fall into step beside him. “How are you feeling today?”
“Stronger.”
She craned her head back to look up into his eyes. “You look better.”
“That’s thanks to the good care I’ve gotten.” He gave her a quick sideways glance. “Very good care.”
She felt her face warm at his words. “We want you to be completely healthy for the rest of your journey.”
Hiram slowed. “If I could only be so blessed as to find more folks like y’all on my way. Then the trip would be easy.”
“You will. We will make sure you do.”
A loud cry caught their attention. When she and Hiram turned in the direction of the noise, a pile of logs swayed precariously near three men struggling to keep it steady. One man, a slave named Goldie, had fallen on the ground beside it. If the pile fell, he would be crushed.
Winnie pressed her hand to her mouth and gasped, but Hiram was already in motion toward the group. He arrived as the men lost their battle and placed his large hand at the right points to still the pile. Winnie could see the muscles in his back bulge with the strain.
“Take some of the logs off the top!” he ground out. “Get him out of the way!”
By now, a crowd had grown around the scene. Two other slaves grabbed Goldie and struggled to drag the dazed man out of the path of the logs. Others gathered around, and Mr. Samuel started handing them to anyone nearby. Winnie lifted her skirts and ran to help. She soon had a log in her hands and carried it to the new pile forming a few feet away.
Hiram held the pile steady by himself until it shrank below the danger of falling. Goldie had been moved and now sat on a chopping block. Hiram stepped back and brushed his hands on his pants.
Winnie returned to his side. Hiram stood there, face drawn. “I’m fine. Pretty risky, piling this so high.”
“Yes, it was.” She eyed the men surrounding the pile. Goldie was on his feet now and stood near the other men who had originally been piling the logs, Thomas and Herbert. They stood with their heads together, whispering. Winnie tensed, straightening her spine. Not again.
The three men sauntered over to where she and Hiram stood.
“Thank you, big man.” Goldie patted him on the arm.
Hiram looked annoyed. “Someone could have been hurt if I hadn’t been here.”
Herbert grinned, but there was no mirth in it. “But ya were here.”
Winnie moved closer. Now that she thought about it, they’d never had so many logs at one time in East Towson before. The slaves who worked on the plantation would sometimes be able to get a log or two for cooking, but not this much. “Where did that wood come from?”
Goldie drew back a little but kept smiling. “Not to worry yourself, missy.”
“Did you steal this from Madison House?”
Goldie’s eyes narrowed. “There she goes. Defending her precious Madisons. I guess that comes with working in the house.”
Hiram took a step to stand behind Winnie, giving her the impression he was supporting her. “I am not defending them. I am helping us. If you stole that, there will be punishment for us all. We live here at East Towson because the Madisons let us live here instead of in the horrible barns on the plantation.”
“They let us.” He sneered. “That’s right nice of them.”
At hearing her words in his mouth, she wilted a bit. They let us… “Yes, they do. Haven’t you gotten in enough trouble?” How could he forget so soon the pain he’d caused and be willing to inflict more? To bring heartache on more than just his own head?
Goldie leveled a look at Winnie that chilled her through. “You tend to your business and I’ll tend to mine.” The three men walked past her and Hiram and headed up to their boardinghouse.
Hiram was watching her when she turned back to him. He spoke first. “Is he always like that?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but the words stopped when she saw a thin red line growing in the fabric of his pants.
Winnie pointed to his leg. “Hiram.”
Hiram looked down and grimaced.
“You probably put a little more stress on it than you should have.” Winnie grasped his arm and led him to the chopping block. More stress because of Goldie, Thomas, and Herbert. “Let me check it.”
“It’s all right,” Hiram said, moving away from her. “No need for all this worry.”
Winnie folded her arms. Stubborn man. “But it’s bleeding. I need to check it.”
He tried to take a
step backward and stumbled the minute he put weight on his injured leg.
Winnie mustered all the sternness she could. “Hiram, sit down and let me look at your leg. Now.”
At first, it looked like he wasn’t going to, but finally he sat on the chopping block and submitted to the examination.
Winnie gently rolled his pant leg above the bandage on his calf. As she undid the bandage, old scars and the new one were revealed. Whip marks crisscrossed his leg. The gunshot wound would blend with his other scars. Only someone who knew it was there would be able to tell it from the others. So much pain.
Her heart ached even more when she finally removed the last bandage. The wound had reopened and was now producing a steady flow of blood.
Hiram’s face sank into a deeper frown when he saw it.
Winnie put on as calm a look as she could as she rolled the bandage into a wad. “Put pressure on it and I’ll go find my mother.” I’ll let Mama tell him his trip will be delayed again.
Chapter 3
Hiram knew what Ms. Phoebe was going to say to him. That reopening the wound would impact his ability to fly. Knowing that, however, didn’t lessen the disappointment when he saw the grim look on her face.
“Well, young man,” she said, recovering some of her cheerfulness. “Looks like you’ll be staying with us a little longer.”
He sighed. He couldn’t run. “How long?”
She replaced the bandages. “A few weeks.”
His gaze drifted to Winnie. She looked as unhappy as he did, standing there with her arms folded like when she commanded him to sit down. He dared not laugh, but he found humor in the memory. He outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds, but she stood her ground. She had confronted Goldie too. My little angel has got some toughness in her blood.
Inside his boardinghouse, Ms. Phoebe gave him some tips to care for the wound while she and Winnie were working during the day. “I know you’re disappointed, but you heal fast, so it may not be as long as we think.”
“I will take extra care.”
Ms. Phoebe patted his shoulder and went back to her work.
Winnie didn’t change her stance, a frown on her face. “You need to be careful.”
“So you expect me to stand and watch a man get crushed?”
Winnie huffed and began pacing. “Goldie and the others had no business bringing that much timber to East Towson. I’m sure they stole it. If they’re caught, we will all be punished on account of it. Maybe a block of wood would have knocked some sense into his head.”
Although he’d held his laughter earlier, now he could not. He guffawed.
She turned and looked at him, giving him a stern frown. “Are you laughing at me?”
Hiram tried to stop his laughter but couldn’t. “You sure have some fire for being the smallest person on this plantation.”
She stood to her full height. “I am not the smallest person. The children are smaller.”
“Not much smaller.”
Winnie scowled, but footsteps sounded on the stairs. Several pairs. Hiram grumbled at the interruption. So far he’d only seen the sweet, caring Winnie. Her other side fascinated him, mainly because it didn’t seem possible that such compassion and fire could live in one person.
Pastor Matthew rushed into the room. “I was hoping you were still here.” Mr. Paul and Ms. Phoebe followed him in and closed the door. “I have some news.”
Hiram leaned forward on the bed. “You don’t look like it is good news.”
Pastor Matthew shook his head. “It is not.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I was down in Baltimore and saw this. There is a new law. The Fugitive Slave Act. It puts into law very harsh penalties for anyone caught helping fugitives. Very harsh.”
The room grew still. Hiram felt, like the others, what this law meant. He grappled for words but Winnie spoke up. “Maybe Mama, Papa, and I should stop helping for a while.”
Ms. Phoebe put her hands on her hips. “Winnie, how can you say that?”
Winnie looked down at her shoes, and her voice grew soft. “We cannot anger the Madisons.”
Pastor Matthew looked at her. “I understand if you want to stop helping for a while, but I would not like to lose you.”
“You will not lose us,” Mr. Paul said.
Winnie looked at him with horror. “Papa, remember the last time—”
“I won’t stop helping fugitives who find their way here,” her father replied. “The Madisons have not found out yet, and we will be sure they don’t.”
Winnie sighed. “Yes, Papa.”
Pastor Matthew turned to Hiram. “I suggest you stay inside as much as possible during the day. And stay away from Madison House. I believe the slave catchers went there to ask about you.”
Hiram nodded. “Don’t have to worry about me, Preacher. I can’t go far on this leg.” No matter how much I want to go. But as he looked at the group of people before him, ones willing to risk their lives for him, his gratitude outweighed his desire to be gone.
The world blurred in front of her. Winnie’s back and feet ached, but somehow she kept walking. The sloping hill seemed to carry her toward East Towson more than her steps. Like it was guiding her home. Mrs. Madison’s fervor to clean out the attic had earned Winnie a day of pay, a small sum from the coins Mrs. Madison kept in the house. But she had worked Winnie and the other house staff hard. That wasn’t all they had to do for the day. Cleaning the attic came in addition to their regular duties.
The day had been hard for another reason in addition to the workload. Halfway through the day she heard Mr. Madison telling his wife that something was missing. She had held her breath. Sometimes slaves would steal coins or food that they thought no one would miss. Mr. Madison’s anger, on the other hand, told Winnie that it was more than a few pieces of bread missing. Mr. Madison’s raised voice had echoed through the house. “The wood was there last week.” Winnie had to cover her mouth to keep from gasping. She knew where the wood was. She had feigned needing something from the kitchen and instead had slipped out the back door to avoid being questioned, too exhausted and angry to trust her mouth to keep Goldie’s secret.
She had stood in the sun, hating feeling this tired. Standing there, looking over the green fields, she felt the tug in her stomach. One she felt many times. The tug to start running without care of where she was going. She took one step but stopped. Everything she earned brought her one step closer to walking, not running, away. That thought made her return to her work, weary in body and heart.
It also hadn’t helped that another fugitive had arrived at the church last night. He wasn’t injured like Hiram and had only run from southern Maryland. Winnie had recorded his story, eyes nearly drifting closed on multiple occasions. The man had family back on his plantation and begged Pastor Matthew to send word to let them know he was okay. They had fed him and given him a small sum of money. He had disappeared into the night despite their admonishment for him to stay.
East Towson had stilled by the time she entered the clearing in front of the boardinghouse. The sun was giving off its last orange light for the day. She spotted Hiram at the side of the house. He sat on the edge of the wooden bench from Mr. Samuel’s kitchen. She slowed her approach as she saw what he was doing.
He was leaned over with both hands in a small plot of freshly tilled soil.
He looked up and smiled, and his smile energized her. “What are you doing out here?”
“Planting a garden. I asked your ma about it. She said Mr. Samuel used to grow a garden here, so I figured I’d see what I could grow.” He shrugged. “Might as well do something useful.”
She took a seat on the bench next to him. She sighed at the relief for her feet. Several plants lay beside him with their roots intact. “What is it you’re planting?”
Hiram leaned over and picked up a plant, cradling it in his palm like it was glass. “I don’t know. Never seen them before. They are different than what grew on the plantation in Virginia.”
She took the plant. “This is thistle. It makes a good tea, and you can eat the leaves.”
He nodded, took the plant from her, used his finger to open a hole in the soil, carefully placed the plant in it, and pressed the dirt in around it. He lifted another to her.
She studied it. “This is a weed. Once it starts to grow, you can’t kill it.” She tossed it over her shoulder.
Hiram laughed, deep and rumbly. “Guess I won’t be planting that.” He handed her another.
She gasped. “Yarrow. This is a good cure for many ailments. Where did you find it?”
Hiram lifted the plant from her hands with tenderness. “At the edge of the trees behind the church.”
“Ma will make sure that grows. She may tend it herself.”
Hiram placed the yarrow in the ground and patted the dirt around it. “Tell me about Goldie, Thomas, and Herbert.”
Winnie looked at him, her anger from earlier returning. “They have been here all my life. They are…” She stopped herself from saying what she wanted, which was troublemakers. “They can be difficult. I try to stay away from them.”
“I saw them here in East Towson in the middle of the day. Thought that was strange.”
Winnie slumped. “Maybe they had a break.” She said it knowing Hiram would know better than she did that slaves didn’t get long breaks in the middle of the day.
“Maybe.” Hiram sounded suspicious and she, stifling a yawn, didn’t have the energy to convince him otherwise.
Hiram grew quiet. She knew she needed to get to her boardinghouse and bed, but she couldn’t convince her body to move. A few minutes longer and I’ll go. “Did you find any more interesting plants?”
She didn’t hear his answer. The sound of the crickets faded to a whisper. The night warmed, and she felt as if it had cast its cloak over her. So peaceful…
She jolted, eyes opening.
The night was dark. She still sat on the bench beside Hiram, but now she sat against him, nuzzled into his side. He had one arm loosely draped around her shoulders. Her eyes widened. She had fallen asleep on him. But now that she was awake, she didn’t want to move. His breathing was deep and rhythmic, his body warm compared to the night. That was probably why she’d slept so soundly.